


direct it, name it in the credits

by writinginmeraki



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: A LOT of Character Development, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Angst, Character Development, Character Study, Competition, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Heartbreak, M/M, Slow Burn, Trust, Trust Issues, a lot of emotions in this one, actor!winwin, and sort of jaehyun, broken!jaewin, doesn't really concentrate too much on reality show, i low-key criticize SM a bit, johnten if you squint, main characters are basically winwin and yuta and sort of ten, please read i lost a lot of sleep!, postbreakup, will add more tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 16:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18578362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writinginmeraki/pseuds/writinginmeraki
Summary: Don’t fall for beautiful smiles, Sicheng thinks. He wonders if he can make an exception. Because love is easy when it comes to Yuta Nakamoto, who loves the world without expecting anything in return, who would rather love and lose for all eternity rather than never love at all. It’s so simple, it’s everything Sicheng has wanted, and it scares him to think that it was so easy after all.Heartbroken Sicheng and heartbreaker Yuta could not be anymore different. Their reality TV director decides to capitalize on their clashes by making them act as ex-lovers. They act, and somewhere along the line the act becomes real.





	direct it, name it in the credits

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first time posting here, so I'm really grateful that you decided to check this out!
> 
> I actually never planned to post this, but my friends kept pressuring me to post it somewhere. So here it is, the product of lost sleep and fervent passion. 
> 
> I hope the tags and summary was adequate. There's a long, emotional ride ahead, a lot of character development, a lot of angst, and a lot of fluff. I hope you enjoy!

****Sicheng dislikes Yuta almost instantly when he walks into the room. His whole life, he’s been trained by the rule “ _early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable_.”

Yuta manages to walk in thirty minutes late.

The most infuriating thing is how Yuta acts so carefree and flippant about the whole situation, especially when everyone was waiting for his arrival in the overheating room without AC.

“Sorry, everyone, there was a problem with my card key,” Yuta says. He shares a broad smile to the whole room. Around him everyone is murmuring words of forgiveness, clearly dazzled by the charisma he radiates. Sicheng rolls his eyes. This is a guy who knows he is hot and will use it to his advantage.

Unfortunately, Yuta notices Sicheng’s look of irritation and promptly moves to sit in the empty spot next to him. It takes all of Sicheng’s acting skills to bite down his groan and arrange his face to one of polite toleration. _Ignore him._

Ignoring him ends up being impossible. “What’s with the long face” — he takes a glance at Sicheng’s name tag— “Sichengie?”

People around him laugh, and Sicheng feels his cheeks and ears get hot.

“Don’t call me that,” he hisses between his teeth, and Yuta laughs.

“What do you mean, it’s cute,” Yuta says, and slings an arm around his shoulder. Sicheng jumps at the sudden contact and knocks his arm off.

“Stop it,” he says, and the words come out sharper and louder than intended.

The room is silent for a few moments, and then Yuta laughs again loudly. If laughter could be seen, Yuta’s would look like fluffy clouds drifting across a blue sky. Sicheng wants to scream. This guy really thinks he’s something big, some hotshot stuff.

“I think we’re going to get along great, Sichengie,” Yuta says, and that’s when Sicheng resolves that if there’s anything he’s going to accomplish in this reality show, he’s going to destroy Yuta in this competition.

 

-

 

It’s only the preliminary and preparation rounds and Sicheng has already managed to get into numerous disagreements with Yuta. Yuta’s much too extroverted for him and constantly in his personal space; he also cannot take things seriously or focus. Sicheng’s quiet about his irritation, but the director and cameramen watch them like a hawk, easily noticing how Sicheng flinches whenever he’s near Yuta or how Yuta seems exasperated at Sicheng’s coldness.

One day the two of them are called to the office. It’s serious, something private, because there’s no cameras.

“I’ve noticed you two, and you guys have an interesting dynamic. Very hateful. Very bitter. So I think it’s best if we capitalize on this nice relationship we’ve got here. Here’s the idea. You two act as if you guys were ex-boyfriends. You won’t have to do anything overly intimate; just sell me this image of ex-boyfriends who still feel a bit of that old flame. It’ll keep the show interesting, and your popularity will definitely be maintained with the attention.”

The manager smiles largely. It looks wolfish; the smile is too big and unsettling on his face. “You’d have to act it for the entire show, of course, and don’t reveal anything to the other contestants.”

Yuta shrugs. He seems overjoyed, and Sicheng’s not sure if it’s because he has an opportunity to stand out or he’s happy that he’s able to annoy Sicheng more than he already does. “So when do we start?”

Sicheng glares at him. “I didn’t say anything about agreeing.”

Yuta scoffs. “You think too much, Sichengie. Take an opportunity when you see it.”

Sicheng wants to scream. The _audacity_ of this pink haired, obnoxious boy to discipline _him_ —

“Fine,” Sicheng says through his teeth. As much as he hates to admit it, show business is show business. “I’ll do it.”

 

-

 

“So,” Yuta says as they’re leaving. Sicheng looks the other direction, not wanting to meet Yuta’s eyes. “Do you want to go out for some coffee?”

“Sorry?” Sicheng scoffs. “Are you joking?”

“Well, if we’re going to pull this off, don’t you think we should probably get to know each other better? Get this story down?”

Sicheng groans. He would much rather go back to his dorms, bury his face into his pillows, and drown soundlessly in this mess he’s gotten into. “Nakamoto, I’d rather see you as less as possible. Text me if you have any problems.”

Yuta is uncharacteristically quiet, no retorts, no joke. “What’s your problem, Sicheng?” he asks. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Sicheng stops in his tracks. It’s confrontation he didn’t expect, and he shifts uncomfortably. “Because,” Sicheng says. “This is show business, Nakamoto. I take this seriously. I don’t think you do, though.”

Yuta flashes a quick, challenging smile. “Alright, Sichengie,” he says, voice low. “I’ll show you that I mean business.”

Sicheng watches as Yuta walks away. Sicheng will admit, Yuta is infuriatingly handsome, not only in his features but the confidence and happiness he radiates.

He’s not sure if he hates him, to be honest. Yuta simply reminds him of past heartbreak. And he won’t let himself get hurt again, he can’t do this to himself, not when it took him so many years to feel okay again.

Another rule Sicheng lives by: don’t fall for people with beautiful smiles.

 

-

 

“How is it like, being on this show with your ex-boyfriend?”

Sicheng weaves a bit of bitterness and sadness into his words almost effortlessly. “I have no relation to him now. I don’t particularly care.”

The interviewer nods with a facade of fake concern. “He hurt you, didn’t he?”

Suddenly he thinks of a dimpled smile, a morning rain, and the words I don’t love you anymore, I need space, and it all hurts too much. Reality blurs; there he is, six months ago, heart shattered around him. “Yes. It’s not important to get into.” There are tears welling up, and he’s not sure if it’s his acting or if they’re real. His vision swims.

“What did he do?” the interviewer asks, and Sicheng shakes his head. There are too many emotions running amok in his brain; he’s suddenly angry at himself, angry for bringing his own emotional baggage into his acting. He takes his emotions and neatly boxes them up, so when he lifts his head again the interviewer is met with a slate of obsidian. Unreflective, cold, stoic.

“He lied to me,” he says shortly. “I haven’t been able to trust since.”

 

- 

 

“What did you mean when you said I lied to you,” Yuta says. The camera lingers right over his shoulder.

Sicheng stares Yuta down. Yuta’s eyes really are beautiful, bright and starry. “You know what I mean. You said you loved me and then you started getting bored.”

Yuta laughs. “That’s a lie, Sicheng, and you know it. You wanted space, so I gave you space.”

He begins moving in, but Sicheng pushes him. “No,” he says.

Yuta reaches a hand out and grabs his chin, fingers tracing his jaw. “There’s too much space between us right now, don’t you think?” Before Sicheng can react, he moves to close the gap between their lips rapidly.

Sicheng knees Yuta hard in the ribs.

The Japanese boy stumbles back, clutching his abdomen. Sicheng can tell it hurts— it better, he threw his entire weight into it— but behind the shocked grimace there’s a trace of a smile.

 _Didn’t expect that from you_ , the smile says.

Sicheng thinks, _I’ll hit you harder next time._

 

_-_

 

“I’m sorry,” Sicheng apologizes when filming ends. It turns out that he bruised Yuta’s ribs, so the filming date for his dance will be delayed. Any feelings of pride at landing such a good hit has been (regrettably) replaced with guilt.

“You’re not sorry,” Yuta says, pressing ice to his ribs and grimacing. “You went for that hard.”

“No, I really didn’t mean to hurt you, Nakamoto.” He really does feel genuinely bad.

Yuta’s lying down on the couch, his head near Sicheng’s legs, and he suddenly grins up at him like a maniac. “I didn’t expect you to ever be apologetic to me,” he says, poking him in the stomach, then reaching up with his long arms to squeeze one of Sicheng’s cheeks. “I like that remorseful look on you. Maybe I should get hurt more often to see it.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes, slapping Yuta’s arm out of his face. “I take my words back. I’m sorry I didn’t hit you harder. I’ll be sure to break your ribs next time.”

Yuta laughs. “You’re sorta hot when you’re annoyed,” he says.

Sicheng feels his ears turn red so he says nothing.

“Hey, Sichengie, do you still hate me?” Yuta asks after a moment of silence.

Sicheng considers. He doesn’t hate Yuta, no, and he can’t find it in his heart to hate Yuta after injuring him so badly. “You’re horribly annoying, _and_ loud, _and_ obnoxious, _and_ you have no respect for my personal boundaries.”

Yuta looks up at him like a petulant puppy begging for more food.

“Okay, maybe I don’t hate you,” Sicheng concedes. Upon seeing Yuta’s delighted face, he amends it. He won't let him get _too_ cocky. “Only because it’s fair after I destroyed your ribs.”

The stupidly bright smile is still etched on Yuta’s face. It’s a beautiful smile, the kind that Sicheng always imagines waking up to in the morning.

_Rule number two. Don’t fall in love with beautiful smiles._

 

_-_

 

“Sichengie,” Yuta breathes. He’s close, so close that he could probably break Yuta’s nose if he headbutted him. “I’ve missed you.” He crowds him into a wall, and all the contestants look on.

Sicheng ducks under his arm, coaxing tears into his eyes as he does so. The camera swings directly onto his face, and he makes sure he puts on a face of pained strength. “I haven’t,” he says, indignant. “You missed your chance, Nakamoto.”

Yuta laughs. “You always played hard to get,” he says. “I know your games.”

“No,” Sicheng says forcefully. “It’s time for you to get the message that I’m not interested.”

“You were always so cold when we dated,” Yuta says, grabbing his wrist. “You never really showed your true face.”

Sicheng’s voice breaks with his next words. “I wonder why, Nakamoto,” he says, and he might be projecting a bit but his acting skills are so good that no one can tell. “I wonder who made me so cold.”

 

-

 

There’s a question session, and he is paired unsurprisingly up with Yuta.

“I already know everything about you, lover dear, so this will be fun,” Yuta says as he sits down in the seat. The camera is conspicuous, but Sicheng is so in character that he doesn’t even notice.

“You’re funny,” Sicheng scoffs. “Also, don’t call me lover dear. I’m not your lover.” He unceremoniously shoves the questions jar into Yuta’s face.

Yuta grins. “Oh, but you will be soon,” he says, taking the jar and taking a slip out to read. “Let’s begin. Would you rather have your heart broken or break someone else’s heart?”

“I would rather break someone else’s heart,” he says. “I’m not an idealist like you.”

Yuta seems surprised, and Sicheng can’t tell if it’s the acting or if he’s genuinely surprised at the response. “Oh, why is that?”

Sicheng closes his eyes, contemplating. He could give an honest response, or the acting response.

He gives the honest response. “Because those who fall in love are fools,” he says. “I would rather save myself the pain.”

“Who hurt you?” Yuta asks softly, and Sicheng can tell that it’s a genuine question of concern. It’s too much, he’s revealed too much, and Sicheng reverts back into his actor persona.

“You,” he says, letting his voice break and his body crumple. “You broke me.”

 

-

 

It’s dinner with all the competitors, and Sicheng’s enjoying his time laughing and cracking jokes with everybody. To his left, Ten keeps shoving fruit into Sicheng’s bowl and throwing himself over Johnny. To his right, Yuta talks animatedly, effortlessly capturing the attention of the whole room.

“Yeah, and Taeyong tried to turn off the camera, but he ended up—” Sicheng can’t hear the rest of the sentence, because the whole room starts shaking with laughter.

That’s when he gets the call. He’d deleted his number a long time ago, but he knows it by heart. _Jaehyun._

He’s trembling like a leaf. Next to him Yuta notices, a look of concern growing steadily on his face.

Sicheng excuses himself. He stares at the number for a long time, trying to build up the courage to decline it.

He’s weak. He picks up.

“I told you not to call me anymore,” he snaps, but there’s no bite in his words.

Jaehyun’s voice still sends shivers down his spine, and suddenly there’s tears welling up in Sicheng’s eyes unnoticed. “I couldn’t help it. I miss you.”

“No. _No_ , you don’t,” Sicheng says. There’s tears slipping down his cheeks. “You were all I had when I moved to this new city and you knew it and you took advantage of it.” A pregnant pause. “You said you loved me. I believed you. And then the next day you break up with me, telling me that you found someone else.”

“I just needed space to think,” Jaehyun says.

“Right, and you got that space with your other lover,” Sicheng spits. “I hope you’re happy now.”

“We didn’t work out.” A pause. “I messed up,” Jaehyun says. “I thought you didn’t love me.”

“Then you never truly understood me,” Sicheng says. “Because I _did_.”

He hangs up. Almost instantly he lets himself collapse to the ground.

He thought he was over this. Months of putting himself together, and it still hurts like the day they broke up.

He still remembers it as if it were yesterday. He’d fallen asleep the night before, the words _I love you_ a midnight lullaby sending him to blissful sleep. That morning he had woken up to the sound of rain falling, rhythmic and soothing, and that dimpled smile. The sort of smile he had always dreamed of waking up to.

In the afternoon Jaehyun broke the news when the sun slowly began to emerge from behind the gray clouds. _I don’t love you anymore. I need space._

There had been a rainbow forming over Jaehyun’s head when he said those words, and for months after that’s all Sicheng could see. A rainbow, mocking him for being so foolish, for thinking that love was just as simple as a dimpled smile to greet him in the morning.

 

-

 

He needs to forget.

So Sicheng does the only thing he can think of. Fold his emotions up neatly and place it deep in the abysses of his brain, willing it to disappear, and then throw himself headfirst into work. After all, work is dependable. It is something Sicheng is confident in, something that he has known all his life, and the only thing he can trust.

Even by Yuta’s impulsive standards, Sicheng throws himself recklessly, dangerously into the performances for the reality TV show. Even when dance practices are long over, even when his legs might give in with the lack of sleep and food, Sicheng continues dancing. It’s not good enough. It never seems to be good enough. _And you weren’t good enough for him._

The pain and work numbs him. It really is the best drug, he thinks wryly as clock hits 3 AM. Replacing one agony for another is simple; the mind is so easily tricked.

He sinks to the ground and takes a sip of water, allowing himself a two minute break. He hates himself. Jaehyun had broken him again so easily, so simply. It had taken only a three minute phone call to shatter months of reconstruction.  

_You aren’t good enough._

The two minute break is over, and he lifts himself gingerly up to try the routine again. His head swims; his vision is blurred as if underwater.

He makes it halfway through when he misses a step and tumbles to the ground. His cheek stings; someone’s banging a gong in the room, or at least that’s what it sounds like, because why else is his head jolting with pain, so much pain, it almost hurts as much as heartbreak. Sicheng tries to lift himself off the ground, but his body seems to melt into the ground.

He lies like that on the floor for awhile, broken. _You aren’t good enough._

 

_-_

 

“Sicheng, it looks like you’ve gone through war,” Yuta remarks while they’re stretching. It’s one of their final rehearsals before the performances.

“Yeah, that’s because I have to deal with you,” Sicheng responds without much vigor. His body feels unsubstantial; he feels like a ghost, ready to disappear at any moment.

Yuta ignores the quip for once. His eyes inspect Sicheng’s face, taking in the eyebags and the swollen cheek. Sicheng squirms under the gaze.

“Are you sure you’re okay for the rehearsal?” Yuta asks, any sign of playfulness replaced by seriousness. “Sicheng, you know it’s okay if you take a break.”

“I’m fine,” Sicheng says shortly. “There’s no need for you to care.”

Yuta bites his bottom lip, frustrated, but says nothing. The cameras have zeroed in on their conflict again, and Sicheng would like nothing more than to shatter the lens on them.

 

-

 

The dance rehearsal begins. Everything is going well. His body moves as if bewitched, and somewhere deep in his mind he registers fatigue and pain but he swallows it down. _This is nothing, because you’re not good enough,_ the voice keeps screaming at him, so he forces his legs to obey.

In front of him Yuta moves out of the way for his center position. He takes one step out and suddenly a wave of pain hits his entire body. It’s almost instantaneous, like a bolt of lightning exacting its final judgement. The world blurs; then there’s feet running toward him, hands shaking his body. The lights on the ceiling seem to glare coldly in disgust.

Through the haziness he can make out all the other contestants and cameras crowding over him. _This must be good content to put on the show_ , Sicheng thinks wryly through the pain. He tries to pull himself up, but his body won’t respond to him anymore. There’s firecrackers in his brain; he wonders if he might dissolve into a puddle of brain ooze soon.

His vision swims more; it seems like the cameras and people are getting closer and closer. It’s a matter of time before he gets trampled by their leering grins.

 _Get away from me, I can’t breathe,_ he tries to say, but he’s only greeted by the austere glint of several camera lens. He feels like he’s suffocating; he can’t even tell if he’s choking on air, spit, or his own heartbreak. There’s wetness on his cheeks, a tear on the right knee of his pants, an ache in his chest.

In between the waves of consciousness and darkness Sicheng can make out a distinct voice yelling at the cameraman to stop filming. Getting the people to back away from him. Then the voice moves closer to him as warm, sturdy hands lifts him onto a rolling bed.

“You’re going to be okay, Sichengie,” the voice says, and he almost believes it.

 

-

 

There’s a hand wiping his sweat away. Footsteps walking frantically across the room. Water pressed to his lips. Two people arguing at the door about cameras. And in between there’s a tired but radiant smile grinning above him. The smile is so bright, so cheerful, that Sicheng finally gives into the darkness of sleep.

 

-

 

“You’re an idiot, Sichengie,” says Yuta when he finally comes to.

Sicheng blinks slowly, eyes slowly adjusting to the light. He tries to sit himself up on his bed, but his head immediately protests. Groaning, he sinks down back into the sheets.

“That’s my line, Nakamoto,” Sicheng says. His voice comes out scratchy and hoarse, as if he’d screamed for a day straight.

Yuta looks uncharacteristically serious and worried as he presses a warm cup of tea into his hands. “Sicheng, you’re overworking yourself.”

“No, I’m not, what do you mean,” Sicheng retorts quickly. “I—”

“I’m not a fucking idiot, Sicheng,” Yuta says. “Look at you, Sicheng. You’re punishing your body, Sicheng, you’re pushing it beyond feasible limits.”

“Why do you care so much?” Sicheng shoots back.  

“Because—” Yuta lets out a frustrated sigh. “It hurts me. To see you like this. To see you believe that you’re not enough.”

The words stun Sicheng; for a second, the world seems to pause. The honesty feels like ice getting dumped down his back. He can’t have this, no, not when he isn’t even honest to himself. “Get out,” Sicheng says. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Yuta stills, a picture of exasperation and anguish painted on his face. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” His voice comes out a lot smaller than expected. Yuta’s face seems to soften at the response. Maybe it’s just the lighting.

“I’m not leaving,” Yuta states matter-of-factly. “Now, where’s that zombie video game Ten always says you’re playing?”

 

-

 

It might not have happened. They’re in an especially tense moment, hands moving at lightspeed over the controls, and Sicheng can only hear the rush of adrenaline in his ears. The words are so quiet that Sicheng might have imagined them.

“You’re enough,” Yuta says.

He didn’t respond then, because suddenly Yuta missed his shot and they lost the game, the narrator announcing solemnly _your team died. Try again?_ Sicheng had knocked over his tea in surprise, and Yuta couldn’t stop laughing for five minutes about it, still giggling even as they hauled the tea-stained bed sheets to the laundromat. Days later, when Sicheng’s better and on his feet dancing again, that’s all Sicheng can hear. The game’s ending credits. Yuta’s laughter. The words: _you’re enough._

_-_

 

“Great rehearsal guys!” Taeyong says once practice ends. Sicheng smiles as he stretches out his legs, sighing as he does so.

“Everyone! Since our schedules are open tonight, let’s all go bar hopping!” Lucas suggests.

Doyoung looks concerned. “Are we even allowed to do that?”

“Pretty sure we can,” Lucas says. “Who’s going to stop us?”

“There are _rules,_  Lucas, that we’re supposed to follow,” Doyoung responds, but he’s drowned out by the agreements of everyone.

Yuta moves over to Sicheng, grabbing onto his shoulder so he can stretch without losing his balance. “You going?”

Sicheng shakes his head. “No, of course not.”

Yuta peers at him, a look of suspicion in his eyes. “You’re not overworking yourself again, are you?”

He hasn’t. “No, I’m going to go back to my room and sleep,” he retorts. “Like a normal person.”

Yuta grins. “Well, you go enjoy your beauty sleep, Sleeping Beauty,” he says, and Sicheng almost chokes on his spit.

 

-

 

There’s a loud knock on Sicheng and Ten’s shared hotel room. Sicheng, concentrated on his phone game, motions at Ten to go get the door. Ten’s in the middle of a call with Johnny, telling him a story about some misadventure of his past, but he goes to the door anyway, complaining as he does so.

“Oh, Sichengie?” Ten says as he peers through the peephole. “It’s your lover boy.”

Sicheng’s hand slips and he watches unamused as his avatar dies. “Huh.”

He makes his way to the door. Ten smiles at him mischievously. “He’s drunk.”

“Lovely,” Sicheng says. “Let’s just pretend we’re not in right now.”

“Not a chance.” Ten laughs diabolically and throw opens the door with a flourish, much to

Sicheng’s horror. “Oh hello, Yuta, I suppose you two will need the whole room to yourselves, so I’m off,” he practically sings as he pushes Sicheng into Yuta and prances off to Johnny’s room next door.

Sicheng groans internally. “Yes, Yuta?” he says, placing his hands on his hips.

He is definitely drunk, but the words that come out are still unexpected.

“i need to tell you something, Sicheng. I— I can see the hurt in your eyes. You’ve been hurt badly before, you still hurt even now, and more than anything I wish I could make that hurt go away.”

The words are true and vulnerable, two things that Sicheng has grown to distrust and fear, and he freezes. Yuta’s noticed, pieced all his small words and actions together. _Of course he’s noticed._

“Sicheng— I think I love you.”

Sicheng blinks. _No_. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Nakamoto,” he says slowly.

Yuta lunges out for him, but Sicheng sidesteps him and lets him cling onto the wall instead. “I mean it, Sicheng. What if I mean it?”

Sicheng can’t have this, not when he’s barely put his heart together. “No. You’re not separating work from reality, Nakamoto. You’re just confused.”  

He bolts into the room and closes the door.

 

-

 

Ten almost immediately returns after Yuta’s footsteps finally leave. “I heard all of that,” he states plainly.

“Good work, you can hear,” Sicheng says, throwing himself back onto the couch. His head spins. “Drunk people say the weirdest things.” He tries to sound casual, but his throat feels like it’s closing up.

“You know, they say people are most honest when they’re drunk.”

Sicheng shakes his head. “No. He didn’t mean it. This is Yuta we’re talking about.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

Ten plops down next to him, sighing deeply. “Sicheng, what do you really feel about Yuta?”

Sicheng makes sure to keep his face neutral. “What do you mean?”

Ten is uncharacteristically serious when he speaks. “I know it’s show business but he truly cares about you. And don’t think that I haven’t noticed how happy you are when you’re around him. It’s time you let yourself be happy, Sicheng.”

Sicheng takes his phone out and begins playing a game, clearly ignoring him. _Don’t fall in love with beautiful smiles_ , he chants loudly in his head. Ten sighs.

“When you fell sick, Sicheng—and by the way, don’t do that again, that was scary as hell— he was so worried, Sicheng. He never left your side the entire time. And he forced the director to stop filming so many times. He wouldn’t let a single camera near you whatsoever. Sicheng, he cares about you. So much.”

Sicheng keeps playing his game, a visage of nonchalance and apathy on his face. Inside, a storm is forming—emotions he’s not ready to face yet.

Ten sighs. “Okay, maybe you’re not ready yet. And that’s fine. All I want to say is that he’s not Jaehyun. He couldn’t break your heart even if he tried.”

 

- 

 

Sicheng doesn’t mention it the next morning. Neither does Yuta. Like usual, Yuta knocks on his door so they can walk to breakfast together. He slings an arm around Sicheng’s shoulder, and for some reason he’s suddenly hyper-aware of the feeling of touch.

He likes it, he realizes. Yuta feels like home.  

 _Don’t fall in love with beautiful smiles_ , he reminds himself, and subtly lets Yuta’s arm drop from his shoulders.  

“Good morning, Sichengie,” Yuta says cheerily, seemingly oblivious of Sicheng’s emotional turmoil.

“Good morning, Nakamoto,” Sicheng says, searching his face for any sign of the memory of the past night. Nothing. “You were really drunk last night.”

“I really was,” Yuta agrees, walking with a skip in his step as if he’s following the beat of a song. “I don’t remember anything.”

 _Good_ , Sicheng thinks. But his head is swimming. He doesn’t know what’s good for him anymore.

 _What did you mean when you said you loved me,_ Sicheng wants to ask. _Did you mean it?_

Sicheng swallows the question down, remembering that morning so many months ago with the rain and the dimpled smile. Love is such an expendable thing, Sicheng thinks. Maybe it’s better to have never loved at all than to love and lose.

 

- 

 

Filming becomes hectic the next couple of weeks, with countless performances and shows and scenes to film. Sicheng is careful not to overwork himself, but he more than welcomes the busy schedule. He buries himself in his work, forgetting that night when Yuta had dropped those forbidden words. It’s easy— Yuta is a natural flirt after all, he will grace his charms on anyone, and as he watches Taeyong and Yuta’s playful teasing he convinces himself that he isn’t anyone special to him.

 

-

 

The photoshoot has just ended when they call Yuta and Sicheng in to speak to the director. There’s no camera around, so they walk a comfortable distance from each other. Yuta seems to want to move closer, but Sicheng pretends not to notice.

“Sicheng, we want to bring in a new member, so it is with my deepest regret that we’re going to have to let you go,” they say. They don’t look very sorry.

Sicheng blinks. The shock slowly sets in, but he swallows the bitterness down. It makes sense, he’s one of the youngest on the show, and he’s stoic and mellow.  He’s popular, sure, but there’s definitely a louder and more engaging personality than him.

Yuta suddenly slams the table and stands up, knocking the chair over with a loud clatter. “No.”

“No?” They seem shocked at Yuta’s sudden outburst. The manager’s drink sloshes and a bit of coffee splashes onto the table. Sicheng blinks rapidly, his voice frozen in his throat.

“No. This is idiotic. You’re not going to kick Sicheng out. He’s multitalented, good-looking, and brings his own charm to the show. This show isn’t a show without Sicheng. And— most importantly to you— Sicheng brings in the brunt of the Chinese market.”

“We have better replacements,” the manager says, struggling for words. “Sicheng’s one of our most valuable members, but what can I say? Everyone’s replaceable.”

Sicheng thinks about how they literally begged him to join the show, demanded for his number seven times before he relented, but his throat seems to be collapsing on itself.

“You’re wrong there, buddy,” Yuta says. A predatory smiles crawls its way up Yuta’s cheeks; he’s Hermes, a Cheshire cat grin of tricks dancing on his face. “Not us.”

“Us?” The manager seems to be turning an alarming shade of paleness.

“If you want to kick him out, I’m leaving.” It’s smart, because Yuta is one of the most popular members on the show. “You’ll be losing half of your profits if I leave too.”

The manager leans back in his chair, face pale and ashen. Sicheng almost chokes on his own saliva. Yuta would be willing to sacrifice his own spot on his behalf?

His heart says: _oh._

“Everyone’s watching because of us. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but everyone watches the show to see this orchestrated drama between Sicheng and I. Ratings have skyrocketed. If you keep us in, imagine what more stuff we can cook up. We can amp up the romance; you know how the public goes insane for love stories. We could end up reconciling and getting back together. We’ll even throw in a kiss scene. Just imagine. The profits, the ratings, the media uproar. The fans screaming about true love and what not. They’ll eat it up.”

The manager seems to be contemplating this; his eyes glow green with greed. “Fine, Sicheng will stay. We won’t add the new member.”

Yuta seems to seize on another idea suddenly. His smile has become chilling; Sicheng shivers with this cold and calculating Yuta. “Actually, if we’re going through with this, let’s discuss something else.” He leans forward. “You’ve been underpaying us. I demand a raise for both Sicheng and I.”

“Wait—”

“I think we’re both aware how this show is carried on the backs of our fake relationship. You’re making a lot of profit because of us but we get dirt. Give us a raise or we both leave.”

Sicheng splutters and looks up at Yuta frantically, but Yuta digs his heel into Sicheng’s foot. Sicheng swallows down a curse and arranges his face into one of intimidation.

The manager seems to be having a seizure with how rapidly the tables have turned. He looks so white he might fade into a ghost.

“Alright— fine — both of you are staying on the show until the end, and I’ll double both of your payrolls.”

Yuta nods, satisfied, and turns on his heel and strides out the door, dragging Sicheng behind him.

 

-

 

When they leave, Yuta slings an arm over Sicheng’s shoulder. He jumps and shakes him off as usual.

“What was that about, Yuta Nakamoto,” Sicheng demands.

“You can’t let them take advantage of you like that,” Yuta berates him. “The entertainment industry’s nasty. They’re using you. You’ve got to use them back.”

Sicheng nods numbly, still shocked by the recent turn of events. Finally he manages, “You’re smarter than I thought, Nakamoto.”

“And you’re dumber than I thought.” He pulls on his ear playfully, and Sicheng smacks him. “You’ve got to know what you’re worth, Sicheng.” He winks and flashes him that infuriating sunshine smile before strolling into his own room.

 _Smug idiot,_ Sicheng thinks. _Smug, lovable idiot._

Yuta stops in his doorway on a whim and clears his throat. “For the record, Sichengie, you’re worth a lot. You’re worth a lot to me.”

 

-

 

(Sicheng blames Ten for planting the thought in his head. Because it’s growing like an unkempt weed in his head, the memory of Yuta wiping his sweat away and screaming at the cameramen to go away, the ending credits of the video game, the spilled tea, Yuta’s laugh, his words _you’re enough, you’re worth a lot to me, I think I love you_ —)

It hits him during dance practice, when Yuta didn’t stretch well enough and  simultaneously pulls a muscle and twists an ankle in the middle of the dance. It hurts, he can tell it hurts by the way he’s limping and grimacing as he massages his thigh. But there’s that smile, that sunshine smile.

“I told you to stretch well, Nakamoto,” Sicheng berates him. “You deserve this.”

The smile is still etched on his face somehow. “I did this on purpose,” Yuta says suavely. “It’s so hard to get your attention otherwise.”

“You don’t look like you’re in pain, Nakamoto, with all that smiling you’re doing.”

Yuta fake pouts, the smile disappearing for the mime, but his whole face is glowing with happiness. There must be Apollo’s blood running in his veins, because he’s pulsating with energy and love, so much love, it makes Sicheng recoil. He craves that warmth, like moths drawn to flame.

He’s going to get burned.

 _Don’t fall for beautiful smiles,_ Sicheng thinks. He wonders if he can make an exception. Because love is easy when it comes to Yuta Nakamoto, who loves the world without expecting anything in return, who would rather love and lose for all eternity rather than never love at all. It’s so simple, it’s everything Sicheng has wanted, and it scares him to think that it was so easy after all.

 

-

     

“Hey, Yuta,” Sicheng says after their dance practice. They’re sprawled on the ground, panting. They’ve been practicing almost nonstop for the past week for the finale showcase performances that will be filmed in front of a live audience, and tickets have already sold out.

There’s a question that’s been on his mind since the first days they met, and it’s only become more pronounced as the days go by. “Why would you rather have your own heart broken?”

“Because I’m not a heartless heathen like you,” he quips. Sicheng rolls his eyes and punches his arm. Yuta laughs, a burst of happiness, and then suddenly slips into seriousness. “I’ve got a lot of love to give. And that’s what I want to share with everyone. I don’t want to be the cause of anyone’s sadness.”

“Says a textbook heartbreaker,” Sicheng says. “The irony.”

“One, I am not a heartbreaker.” Yuta throws an arm around Sicheng’s shoulder casually and pinches his cheeks with the other hand affectionately. “And two, I’ll take the hurt. A heart can heal. It’s just a matter of thanking that person for being a part of your life and moving on.”

The conversation has gotten too personal, too vulnerable, too relevant to Sicheng’s life, yet he doesn’t run from it anymore. “You’re a masochist, Nakamoto.”

Yuta smiles at him broadly. “The heart’s more resilient than you think, Sichengie.”

 

-

 

The manager’s called just Sicheng into his office this time, and Sicheng bites his lip as he leaves the dance practice room. He doesn’t know what to expect: maybe they’ll change their mind and kick him off the show after all.

Yuta squeezes his arm when he passes him. He leans in to whisper into Sicheng’s ear, “If they threaten to kick you out, tell them you and I have already packed our bags and are on our way out.”

Sicheng laughs and he keeps his back straight and head up when he enters the office.

The manager smiles as he walks in. It’s a smile that looks like it’s been painted on: it doesn’t quite fit his face right.

“So, Sicheng, we’ve been watching your performances and we’re liking what we’re seeing. You have a lot of talent and you’re extremely hardworking.”

Sicheng nods, a little confused. The conversation is going nowhere he expected. He gets a sense that this is some sort of half-assed apology—because they’ve realized how valuable Sicheng has become with the past couple of episodes, and they’re genuinely afraid he’ll leave.

He finds himself imitating Yuta as he leans back a bit in his chair and puts on a coy smile. “Thank you.” The manager is about to dismiss him when he cuts in. “I’ve been thinking—I’d like a solo stage for my Chinese traditional dance.”

The manager blinks. “I don’t know—“

“I don’t know, maybe the show would benefit if you promoted all members of the show equally,” Sicheng says. He’s surprised by his own audacity to confront the manager about this. “And I know for a fact that I could increase viewership from China if I could showcase Chinese culture in the show.”

The manager is visibly shaken as he aimlessly looks through his agenda, perceiving the underlying threat between the lines. “I suppose I could fit you in here—”

_The entertainment industry uses you. You’ve got to use them back._

 

_-_

 

It’s performance night, and Sicheng can barely keep his knees from knocking as the makeup artist carefully applies his makeup.

After his makeup is done, he surveys himself in the mirror. The makeup is minimal, only there to cover his blemishes and to enhance some of his features subtly. The stylists went for the businessman concept, so he blinks at the Sicheng in the suit staring back at him in the mirror.

“You look good,” Yuta says, appearing behind him in the mirror.

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “You’re only saying that because you want a compliment back from me.”

Yuta laughs. “No—okay, _maybe_ —”

“You’re not getting anything from me, Yuta,” Sicheng says as if mildly disgusted, but Yuta does look good. But he would rather die than let Yuta hear that from him.

The manager announces that the group dance is starting soon and it’s time to line up in formation, and Yuta watches closely as a wave of anxiety washes over Sicheng. He throws an arm over Sicheng’s shoulder as if it’s always belonged there and presses his forehead against his.

“Hey—Sicheng, remember that you’re enough,” he says before they’re pulled apart to get in the correct formation and then Sicheng’s swallowed by flashing lights and the screams of the crowd.

 

-

 

The dance goes extremely well. It’s honestly all a blur: a blur of screaming voices and faces and flashing lights and music blasting through his earpiece. His body is nothing but kinetic energy barely contained in the shape of a person.

As he steps out for his center position, the entire world seems to shake as they scream his name. It seems like the ceiling might crack and crumble down to the ground; all these people believe in him, love him, support him. He almost forgets to dance, stunned by this. A tear might be sparkling in the corner of his eyes.

He feels so happy he might spontaneously combust. There’s a fire burning in Sicheng’s heart: he loves this, loves the stage, loves the people. He’s not supposed to be smiling in this part of his dance, but it finds its way on his lips.

Months of self-doubt, of hurt, of believing he wasn’t enough—it has all been well worth it.

 

-

 

When the dance ends, he’s unable to congratulate his teammates as he’s whisked off to do his makeup and change outfits for his solo stage.

As he stands at the entrance waiting for the cue to enter the stage, he feels nothing but confidence. In his head he can hear Yuta telling him _you’ve got to know how much you’re worth._

Sicheng thinks about the boy that collapsed during that dance practice, who didn’t quite believe in himself, who searched for comfort working until the night gathered like a stain under his eyes. He’s still both boys, but now he’s embracing that hurting boy and telling him _I’ll show you what we’re worth._

When he dances he dances for himself. He is grace, he is the wind, and his movements are water across the stage. He is free.

He is Sicheng, and he’s worth it.

When he does the cloud bridge aerial flip, everything stops. Time seems to shut down. He feels like he’s flying. He’s weightless. Even gravity can’t chain him down. Upside down, he sees the world clearer than he ever has. He can do anything. He finally believes it.

 

-

 

Somehow he remembers to end his dance (he could dance forever, he really could), and the place erupts with applause. In his haze of happiness and exhaustion and pure exhilaration, he can see Yuta standing up and smiling widely at him, clapping furiously and screaming his name. Yuta’s still standing when the applause dies down, and somehow in the midst of the chaotic lighting their eyes find each other. It feels like pure electricity crackling between them; somewhere in his heart, Sicheng feels it bursting with light.

 _I’m so proud of you,_ Yuta seems to be mouthing. It’s hard to tell with the flashing lights and the shadows, but all Sicheng knows is that he is so thankful for the boy with that stupid sunshine smile.

He stands there for a few moments longer than he should on the stage. Those moments seem like forever. Everything’s frozen around him again, the audience has faded into white noise, and the only thing that matters is Yuta’s smile somehow brighter than the lights beaming onto him.

Then the sound and his vision rushes back to him like wave crashing down on the shore, a loud roar in his ears, and he bows quickly and rushes backstage.  

 

-

 

He’s barely stepped into the changing room when everyone attacks him.

Yuta’s hugging him so tightly, jumping up and down, screaming _I told you you could do it, you were amazing, I’m so proud._ Sicheng just hangs on to him, trying to anchor himself back into the world. This is real. He did it.

 

-

 

The cameras are rolling again as Yuta maneuvers Sicheng into a wall, a hand placed right next to his right ear.

“Nakamoto, we just finished performing and both of us smell. Can this wait?” he says.

Yuta ignores him, moving closer. “You listened to me.” There’s something in his tone that hints at reality, and Sicheng raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “You started believing in yourself.”

Sicheng smiles. “I think that might be the only time I’ll listen to you.”

Yuta smiles at him softly. “You did well.”

There’s a blush blooming on his face, and Sicheng hurriedly makes a snarky joke to hide it. “I might have listened to you once but it doesn’t mean I’ll take compliments from you. We all know how you’re full of bull.”

Yuta presses a finger against his lips. Sicheng blinks, body frozen in place.

“Don’t say such things with that pretty mouth of yours, Sichengie,” Yuta drawls. “I can think of much better things to do with it.”

“Fat chance, Nakamoto,” he says, but he’s laughing.  

 

-

 

Sicheng almost immediately beelines for his room after the celebrations and filming. He’s looking forward to the quiet; maybe he’ll finally be able to finish that drama he’s been watching.

He’s halfway down the hallway to his room when he gets a call.

“Hello,” Sicheng says, picking up the phone without checking the contact number.

“Hi, Sicheng,” says the deep voice. It’s Jaehyun, but his voice no longer causes a reaction in Sicheng. He feels nothing, just tired with this whole situation.

“What do you want?” he says, and it’s biting but not petty.

Jaehyun sighs deeply. It’s wobbly, and Sicheng’s spent enough time with him to know that he’s on the verge of tears. “Sicheng, I’m sorry. I messed up. I still . . . I still love you.”

Sicheng is silent. Months ago the old Sicheng would have craved those words from Jaehyun. But for some reason, his mind keeps conjuring an image of a sunshine smile.

“I loved you, Jaehyun,” he finally says. “But not anymore.”

There’s silence on the other line. There’s sniffling, the crumple of tissues, the shifting of sheets. Then: “You’ve found someone else.”

“I found myself,” Sicheng states curtly.

Jaehyun sniffs again and takes a shuddering breath. His voice is small and broken, a mirror image of Sicheng all those months ago. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Sicheng feels like he should feel incredulous, or smug, or disgusted, but he feels a calmness settle over his body. “Someone will love you, Jaehyun. But that someone isn’t me anymore.”

The sobs are now obvious, hacking, heart-wrenching ones. Sicheng stands in the darkened hallway, shadows throwing his face into stark contrast. It’s a stranger’s cries he’s listening to.

“Thank you for what you taught me,” he says quietly, and hangs up without another word.

 

-

 

“Finally,” Ten says while they’re doing face masks. Ten’s chosen a ridiculous charcoal bubbling mask, and he looks vaguely like a corpse from a horror movie. Sicheng knows he chose it just to scare Johnny when they video call. “God fucking _finally._ ”

Sicheng sighs, slowly patting the edges of the sheet mask on his face. “He never really completely understood me. I guess I didn’t really know him too after all.”

Ten shakes his head. “Everything he said, it’s all bullshit. At the end of the day he didn’t care for your emotions at all. _Space_ , my ass. Glad you finally found the balls to shut him down.”

There’s a long moment of silence as the two of them stare blankly at the wall together, only interrupted by the crunch of Ten’s Thai chips. Sicheng expects himself to feel some twisted and sad emotion, to feel the same crushing pain he felt when Jaehyun told him _I’m not in love with you anymore, I need space_ , but now he feels light, buoyant even. He needed that closure, that final phone call to send his pain to rest.

Sicheng finally breaks the silence. “It took a lot of time to put myself back together. But actually, I’m glad it happened. I’ve grown. And we just weren’t compatible, and that’s all there is to it.”

Ten throws an apple at him lightly. “You’re too forgiving, Sicheng.”

He smiles. “You only move on through forgiveness.”

“You’re too nice for me,” Ten groans.

 

-

 

_[“Got anyone else in mind, then?” Ten asks._

_Yuta comes to mind, that bright sunshine smile, but Sicheng dismisses it. “No, not really.”]_

 

_-_

 

The filming for their fake love story continues as usual, but Sicheng’s starting to look forward to them. It’s a scene where they’re having a heart to heart in the practice room. Yuta’s more touchy than usual and he finds his body expecting his touch, craving it even.

“I’ll be honest, Sicheng,” Yuta says, and Sicheng can sense that he’s indicating something that transcends their fabricated love story. “I fell in love with you the second I walked into the room. You’re a different kind of beauty, Sicheng, the silent kind that creeps onto you like the sunrise.”

Sicheng smiles, painting a wry yet wistful expression on his face. “You were always such a romantic,” he says. “You haven’t changed. I suppose our breakup didn’t break you like that.” A pause. He wonders if he should toe the line of honesty too.

He does. “That’s what I like about you, Nakamoto. Life can’t seem to ever erase that smile of yours.”

 

-

 

The news comes when Sicheng, Yuta, Johnny, and Ten are having an impromptu photoshoot outside the building.

In the middle of taking a ridiculous photo of Yuta attempting to squat on a fire hydrant, a phone call comes in. It’s an unknown number, but curious, Sicheng picks it up.

The words are a blur; the whole thing is a blur, because it’s completely unexpected.

When he finally chokes out a “thank you, can’t wait to work with you,” the rest of his friends look at him expectantly. The words come out in a rush. “They saw my dances — people want to cast me for a drama, and the rest of the cast is so famous, and people have been looking forward to this show for awhile— _and they’re making me a lead character—“_

It can’t be real, this must all be a surreal dream. It seems like only yesterday he’d worked himself half to death, believing he was not enough. Suddenly they’re all attacking him, screaming congratulations, Sicheng, you deserve this—

So much is happening at the moment that Sicheng doesn’t notice Yuta’s eyes that are sparkling with tears of happiness, or the kiss planted on his forehead so quickly that it was probably dust or the breeze.

 

-

 

They did promise the manager that one last scene, so they’re on the roof, the starry night sky a beautiful backdrop behind them. The wind makes their hair drift back and forth across their faces, and Sicheng blames the redness on his cheeks on the coldness when Yuta reaches out and moves his hair out of his face.

  
The director makes a motion with his hand behind the cameras to speed it up, and so Sicheng tears his gaze away from the street below him and to Yuta’s face. His breath catches. The whole universe seems to be reflected in his eyes.

  
Yuta smiles gently, a sloping curve of a crescent moon. He’s moving in to press their foreheads together. Sicheng can’t tear his gaze away from those eyes; this feels so real, even though the cameras are there.

“If I kiss you, Sicheng, will you knee me in the ribs like you did last time?”

Sicheng smiles sweetly. “You’ll have to kiss me to see.”

His eyelids flutter shut but the kiss doesn’t happen. Yuta’s lifted a hand to his cheek, a softness reminiscent of the first rays of a new day. There’s electricity crackling between them; the air seems electrified around them. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes.

Yuta’s moving in, and suddenly, Sicheng feels the gaze of those icy cameras, the eyes of a thousand people on him. No one deserves entrance to this private moment.

He moves his face last minute so the kiss lands on his cheek. It’s good enough for the camera; the angle and lighting makes it looks like it was legitimate.

Yuta makes a sound in the back of his throat as if surprised and offended, and Sicheng moves his lips to his ears to whisper something only meant for Yuta.

“Be thankful I didn’t knee you,” he says, and Yuta begins laughing so hard that the stars might drop out of the sky.

 

-

 

The final interview. The director makes them both sit together in one large chair, and Yuta interlaces their fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Sicheng leans into Yuta’s body a bit, smiling largely. He isn’t acting for once.

“So, let’s address the elephant in the room, shall we?” the interviewer says.

Yuta laughs, a puff of joy. “There’s no elephant in the room. I think it was pretty obvious this entire time.”

Sicheng elbows him playfully. “ _You_ were the one who made it obvious.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but that’s only because someone was being so unnecessarily _stubborn._ You really made me put up a fight to win you back.”

“You sound a little like you’re complaining, Yuta. Maybe I should’ve kept you waiting longer,” Sicheng says, and Yuta looks so offended that he can’t help but laugh. Yuta quickly joins in, unable to hold that expression.

The interviewer chuckles along with the both of them. “I’m so glad you two are finally back together. Everyone—including me—has been waiting impatiently for this day to finally come.”

“Who said we were back together?” Sicheng jokes.

Yuta pouts and Sicheng thinks _stop it, being that cute is illegal._ Sicheng gestures at their intertwined hands. “For better or for worse, I’m stuck with this idiot now.”

Sicheng keeps smiling, and he can’t help but glance giddily down at their interlocked hands every few moments. But they’re still acting, dancing around their feelings. _What are we even when the show is over?_

 

_-_

 

The end of filming seems surreal. Sicheng can’t imagine not seeing everyone’s faces again all together in the hotel room, laughing at some ridiculous jokes or practicing the dance moves until morning or running out at 1 A.M to buy strawberry milk.

Everyone’s sitting together in one of the filming rooms, just talking and chilling. Sicheng watches Jungwoo, Lucas, and Johnny use a pillow as a volleyball in the center of the room and fail miserably to keep the pillow up in the air. He’s really going to miss this, he decides.  

Taeyong, Ten, and Johnny suddenly plop next to Sicheng. “Yo, where’s your lover boy, Sicheng,” asks Johnny, wiggling an eyebrow teasingly.

Sicheng laughs, sharing a quick glance with Ten, who has an amused smirk lining his face. “Oh, it was just for the show. Was it not obvious?”

“You guys were only acting?” Taeyong asks, shocked.

“But the romantic tension—it was so real,” Johnny says.

“Yeah, I really thought you guys were actually exes or lovers or something, the sexual tension, the chemistry—there’s no way that wasn’t real.”

“No, it was all fake,” Sicheng says, politely smiling. “In real life, there’s nothing like that between us.”

Ten raises an eyebrow and shares a look with Johnny that says _can you believe this guy._ “You’re actually oblivious. Even a blind man can see there’s something there,” he says. He subtly points with his chin. It’s Yuta in the distance, holding two cups of coffee and whipping his head back and forth in an effort to locate them. He notices them and jumps up and down in excitement, his whole face lighting up.

“Hey Sicheng, I got you some coffee!” he calls out as he half jogs, half walks over to the group. The sunshine smile is on his face again, and his pink hair cheerily bounces on his head.

Ten winks at Sicheng. “Just let yourself be happy.” Then he shoots a knowing look at Johnny and Taeyong, and the three of them excuse themselves.

“Hey—” splutters Sicheng, but the three of them are already gone.

“What were they talking about?” Yuta asks as he slides into the seat next to Sicheng.

Sicheng takes the coffee and smiles down at it. “Oh, you know, the usual—“

In the peripheral of his vision, he can see Ten, Johnny, and Taeyong making kissy faces and hearts toward their direction. Sicheng pauses for a second, momentarily distracted. Yuta turns to look, but the three hooligans pretend to be distracted with the suddenly extremely interesting ceiling. Sicheng rolls his eyes, but he’s sure his ears are bright red at this point.

He manages to continue his sentence. “—talk about video games and where they want to travel—”

“Oh, they need to go to Osaka and Kyoto if we’re talking about travel,” Yuta says excitedly. “Did I ever tell you—”

Sicheng listens to Yuta gush about his beloved Japan, and inside him something feels warm and happy, and he’s sure it’s not just because of the coffee.

 

-

 

“So what about us,” Yuta asks. He’s standing in the door frame of Sicheng’s room casually, leaning his weight against the side.

“What about us?” Sicheng responds.

“I think this is fairly obvious, but—” Yuta looks down at the carpet and scratches his head. “I wasn’t acting half of the time,” he finally admits. “My feelings—I wasn’t acting.”

Sicheng smiles sweetly. “That may be true for you, but what if _I_ was acting?” He says as he moves in closer. Yuta seems to have short-circuited with the movement.

( _When you move you look like you’re dancing,_ Yuta thinks.)

“Well,” Yuta says, voice suddenly deep and husky when Sicheng steps so close that their noses lightly touch. He seems to be struggling to breathe. “I would be very disappointed.”

“You’re going to have to be disappointed then,” Sicheng says slyly, shrugging nonchalantly before backing away into the hallway again.

Yuta grabs Sicheng’s waist and pulls him in again. He has to bite down a noise that falls somewhere between a giggle and a gasp. He’s sure Yuta can hear how fast his heart is pounding.

“Pretend the cameras are on,” Yuta whispers gruffly. “Act for me.”

“Fine,” Sicheng says, and his heart is pounding. “Action.”

Yuta moves toward Sicheng’s ear, the pointed right ear, and nibbles on it. Sicheng lets out a gasp and Yuta smirks as he lifts his face to look at Sicheng’s. His eyes explore every feature, drinking it all in, before his eyes fall to his lips. Yuta’s lips are already parted and he’s already moving in when Sicheng moves his head away so the kiss misses.

“Sicheng, you can’t do this to me _again_ ,” Yuta complains.

“Sorry,” Sicheng purrs, lids half-lidded like a feline’s. “I only kiss on the second date.”

Yuta whines. “You tease. We’ve technically had multiple dates already.”

“If I recall, those were all fake and in front of a camera,” Sicheng says, fluttering his lids.

“I thought we agreed to pretend that we’re acting,” Yuta says, eyes still tracing the edges of Sicheng’s lips.

Sicheng shrugs and makes to walk for his room. “We’ve acted enough, don’t you think?” he says.

Yuta reaches out and grabs his arm. “How about a kiss on the _first_ date?” says Yuta. “First date. Today. Right now. At that Chinese restaurant you wanted to try out.”

Sicheng laughs at Yuta’s earnestness. “I don’t break my rules,” he says. “You out of all people should know that.”

 

-

 

They’re walking down the street on the way to the restaurant when Sicheng points up at the moon. “Look, it’s beautiful,” he says.

Yuta murmurs in agreement, but he’s looking at Sicheng instead. Sicheng doesn’t realize he’s not actually looking until he turns to Yuta and sees his eyes on him.

“You’re not looking,” he says, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Well, there’s something more beautiful than the moon right next to me,” Yuta says, and Sicheng chokes at the most cliche line he’s ever heard. “Oh look, a photo booth.”

“I meant all those words I said before,” Yuta says while Sicheng is stuffing the bills into the photobooth. “You don’t know what you’re worth. But you’re worth so much, Sicheng, you’re worth so much that people don’t even know how to deal with it. That _I_ don’t know how to deal with it.”

Sicheng smiles softly, eyes fixated on the machine’s instructions. “Are you saying that because there’s a camera here?” he jokes, pointing at the photobooth camera. Yuta opens his mouth to retort, but the screen starts flashing a countdown.

They’re taking photos when Sicheng thinks about leaning over and kissing him for the last photo. Maybe. He might have to throw his rules out the window when it comes to Yuta.

  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

Bonus scenes: 

 

 

The countdown is flashing for the last photo, and Sicheng looks over at Yuta. There’s a beautiful smile lining in his face, an entire sun barely contained in a human body, and there’s sunshine bursting from the seams. He can see it in his eyes that always search for the best in everyone, who saw the best in him; and the smile he learned to trust, to love, a treasure he wants to wake up to every morning.

Love is simple with Nakamoto Yuta.

“You smile too much,” sicheng says, and grabs the front of Yuta’s shirt and presses his lips to his.

Yuta almost reacts instantaneously and presses Sicheng flush against his skin. There’s electricity cracking with every touch, with the feeling of Yuta’s hand finding its way around his waist, fingers sliding up a neck and carding through hair. The earth must have fallen into the sun because the whole world feels as if it’s going up in flames. The photo booth must be a pile of metal now; it was too small for their love.

He’s burning up and he loves it.

The flash goes off for the final photo, and Sicheng feels Yuta’s smile dancing teasingly against his lips. He finally breaks the kiss, hot breaths filling the air between them. Their foreheads still touch.

“I thought you didn’t break your rules,” Yuta breathes. His gaze sears.

Sicheng smiles. “You make them way too easy to break, Nakamoto,” he whispers, and he lets himself fall into the sun again.

 

-

 

The photos turn out well, and Yuta points at the last one where they’re kissing. “I’m putting this on the back of my phone case,” he says.

Sicheng turns away, embarrassed. “You know, I only give kisses for the cameras,” he jokes. “So keep that safe because there won’t be any more.”

Yuta fake pouts and slides a hand in Sicheng’s back pocket, tugging him closer to him. “Sichengie,” he whines.

“You idiot,” Sicheng sighs, and kisses him.

 

-

 

“You know that night when you were drunk?” Sicheng asks.

“Yes. But no. I don’t remember anything from that night.”

“Well, you came to my door and drunkenly told me you loved me. That’s what happened. If you were ever curious.”

Yuta laughs. “Okay, don’t hate me. I lied. I remember that night. I remember it all.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Sicheng says, confused.

“You were still hurting, and I didn’t want to rush anything. I’d wait for you. I’d love and lose for all eternity when it comes to you,” Yuta says.

Sicheng should say something. “Nakamoto, you’re cheesy.”

“Yep,” Yuta replies, smiling. “You know, drunk Yuta is still waiting for a concrete response.”

 _Okay, that smile is unfair._ “Drunk Yuta will have to wait,” he says, because the words aren’t needed and Yuta knows it too. It’s already been said a million times before, in smiles, in laughs, in jokes, in the tea they spilled playing games to the hidden meanings in between their acted lines.

“You tease,” Yuta complains, but they can’t stop smiling.

 

-

 

Sicheng wakes up in the morning to the sound of rain falling lightly outside like a lullaby. He stretches an arm out toward his right, reaching out for warmth. It’s not there, and he opens his eyes in surprise.

Yuta’s over him, arms on either side of his head, caging him into the bed. He’s silhouetted by the sunlight, and in this angle the sun and he seem indistinguishable from each other. Then he moves a little, and there’s a beautiful smile that greets him.

It’s the smile he always dreamed of waking up to.

Yuta’s leaning in, and he lets himself fall into the smile again.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. It really means a lot. :)


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